


Idiot

by CuriousThimble



Series: Birds of A Feather [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Sex, tw: rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: Tabris knows that Zevran is attracted to her- and Maker knows she can't deny his allure- but she isn't sure how to proceed, or how she feels about it.





	Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF RAPE/NON-CON

Three days after Zevran joined their ranks, Tabris realizes two things: he wanted to sleep with her, and Alistair didn’t like it one bit.

 

The Antivan is attractive enough, but the thought of being with someone unsettles her. All her life, she has seen her people taken advantage of by their employers, the guards, and the nobility- Tabris herself had fallen prey almost as soon as her breasts developed. She doesn’t know what she’d do if Zevran decides to do more than flirt.

 

Or how she feels to have that choice be her own.

 

But after a month on the road with him, she  _ does  _ know she doesn’t hate the warmth that courses through her whenever Zevran grins at her as if sharing a private joke. He confuses her; one moment he casually brushes the hair off her neck and whispers something scandalous in her ear, the next his eyes darken and he shifts away. Still, she wonders when- or  _ if _ \- he’ll kiss her.

 

_ What absolute nonsense, _ she thinks, poking the fire and ignoring him as he squats beside her.  _ It’s just a game to him. _

 

“You look so tired, my dear,” he tells her, clucking his tongue and brushing a braid off her shoulder. “It is all this constant walking and fighting. I think I know what you need.”

 

“A good night’s rest,” she mutters. “The Blight over. Alistair to  _ never _ make dinner again.”

 

“Hey! It isn’t that bad!” To prove it, Alistair scoops up another large spoonful of the lumpy, gray stuff he called a stew into his mouth.

 

Zevran settles himself closer, using a single finger to turn her face to look at him. “Hmm, I’m afraid I cannot provide two of those things, but as for a good night’s rest… But,” he chuckles, eyes on her lips, “drastic measures are called for, I think.”

 

Tabris looks up at him, her blue eyes wide with innocence. “Am I such a hopeless case then, Zevran?” she asks breathlessly, forgetting that they’re currently surrounded by people.

 

His teasing is suddenly replaced by a hungry look, and something in Tabris’ stomach quivers. “Perhaps not,” he murmurs, his finger trailing along her jaw slowly. “My thought is this: We retire to my tent, and I show you the sort of massage skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse.”

 

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Wynne asks sharply. “Zevran, are you  _ propositioning  _ her in front of everyone?”

 

Tabris grins, biting her bottom lip as the spell he’d cast over her breaks. “Well, Zevran,  _ is _ that what you’re suggesting?”

 

She can tell he’s fighting not to smile at her teasing when he turns his face away and coughs. “If you mean to ask whether or not there might be more than a massage involved, allow me simply to say you won’t be disappointed with  _ any  _ of the techniques I’ve picked up over the years.” Though his expression is somewhat serious, he can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

 

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair grumbles into his bowl. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

“I think I already am,” Leliana groans.

 

Tabris glances around the group, her grin falling away.  _ Not even a kiss and I could be in his bed tonight. _ “I’m afraid I can’t,” she says softly, looking down.

 

“Afraid?  _ You _ ?” Zevran chuckles, crossing his arms. “What is there to fear, Grey Warden? You deserve a little fun, do you not? If you’re not of a mind, however, it is no tragedy.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and Tabris stares at him with wide eyes.

 

_ He just- He doesn’t care if we sleep together? I don’t understand! _ “Oh, I’m of a mind,” she whispers, feeling heat creep into her cheeks.

 

“Then why hesitate? Let us throw caution to the wind and take our pleasure.”

 

“Zevran, she is burning with embarrassment,” Morrigan chides. “If you persist, you will have to douse her with water lest you burn yourself.”

 

Instantly he turns chivalrous, taking her elbow and guiding her away from the camp. “I am sorry, Warden,” he says softly, his jaw setting as he looks out into the darkness. “I did not realize you were a virgin.”

 

“I’m not.” The words are small and fragile but they hang between her hunched shoulders and his tense posture with as much strength as stone. 

 

Zevran clasps his hands behind his back as they walk, not looking at her. “I see.”

 

“Zev...I’ve...never made that choice,” she says, lifting her head to look at his profile. “It was made for me. You know what it’s like in the alienages.”

 

“I do.”

 

They walk in silence, the night air cooling the burning in Tabris’ cheeks. They’re well away from the camp when he sits on a fallen log and hangs his head. “I am sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice surprises her.

 

“For what?”

 

“If I had known you had no interest, I wouldn’t have-”

 

“You think I’m not interested?” She laughs, the idea of  _ not _ being attracted to the man in front of her striking her as being far funnier than it probably is. 

 

“And now you’re laughing at me,” he says sourly, raising his head to glare at her.

 

Tabris fights her laughter down to a few stray giggles and sits beside him. “Only because you’re every bit the idiot Morrigan says you are.”

 

His eyebrows lift, then, slowly, the corner of his mouth. “Am I?”

 

She nods, suddenly shy and toying with the end of a slender braid. “Especially if you think I’m not interested in you.”

 

His cockiness returns in full force, and he leans forward. “Warden,” he murmurs.

 

“Y-Yes?” she breathes.

 

“Might I kiss you?” he asks, tilting her chin up slightly.

 

In answer, Tabris brushes her lips against his in a feather-light touch. Instantly, she knows it isn’t enough, and, needing more, captures his lips in a deep kiss. One hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, while the other tangles in her hair, a warm sound in his throat as she melts into his arms.


End file.
